The Curse

Bridget had just told Paul that his father was dead. The young, somewhat awkward and nerdy nineteen year-old could hardly believe it.

Less than a week ago Josh, his father, and Bridget, his father's younger girlfriend, had gone on vacation in Mexico together. Bridget had returned two days early looking very pale and upset, bearing the sad news that his father had been killed in a cave-in whilst the two of them were exploring some random cave they had discovered near the Sierra Madre del Sur mountain range.

In fact Paul was supposed to have gone with them. His father had promised to pay for him to join them as a reward for being accepted into college, Bridget however had put her foot down and insisted that the teenager would ruin their so-called 'romantic holiday'.

Bridget and Paul hadn't seen eye-to-eye from their very first meeting. Paul put most of the blame for the break-up of his parent's marriage, squarely on the shoulders of his father's new, younger and more beautiful girlfriend Bridget. The attractive thirty four year old blonde Bridget also took a disliking to Paul, resenting the very idea of being anyone's stepmother, let alone such a geeky, socially inept young man like Paul. The plain looking teenager was nothing like the handsome and successful father that Bridget had been having an affair with.

The fact that Bridget was drop dead gorgeous and insanely sexy also didn't help make Paul more comfortable in her presence. Bridget was a teenager's wet dream, the perfect blonde centrefold. She was the picture of beauty, with deep brown eyes, long blonde hair and a tight, toned, killer body. Her breasts were her most outstanding feature, large, perky and almost always on display. She always wore tight fitting, low cut clothing that displayed her magnificent curves to best effect. Paul had given up trying to be subtle and usually openly stared at her big, luscious tits, his lustful stares furthering Bridget's dislike of him. He would have given anything to be in his father's shoes and have the chance to get his hands on those massive, round knockers.

The rest of Bridget's body was almost as good. Even the far younger girls in Paul's classes at college could not compare with her perfect supermodel physique. She had long, tanned legs, and a shapely, well-rounded ass. Her erection-inducing body was the product of perfect genes and many hours spent in the gym.

Despite his dislike of Bridget's haughty, bitchy disposition, Paul still lusted after her, often imagining himself having his way with her flawless, voluptuous body as he masturbated. Bridget's constant insults and put-downs meant his favourite fantasy was to shut her up mid insult with a hard cock in her mouth.

"And don't think you're going to stay here young man!" Bridget snapped after she had revealing the shocking news of Paul's father's death. "You can go Spain and live with your bitch of a mother."

"Don't say that about Mom. You're the bitch!" Paul angrily replied storming off to his bedroom, his mind whirling with grief.

He slammed shut the door and slumped down on the bed. He had no intention of staying here with Bridget, that's for sure. Besides, knowing Bridget it wouldn't be long before she found some new, rich sugar-daddy to keep her happy.

Paul hadn't been getting on with his Dad recently, they'd gotten into a number of arguments over living in the same house as Bridget and was even considering moving out into his own place or going to stay with his mother in Spain. It still hurt for his father to be gone however. What the hell were they doing exploring a cave together anyway?

***

Paul must have drifted off to sleep, as he was awakened several hours later when Bridget burst into his bedroom.

"Don't you knock?" he complained, still a little sleepy even though it was only a little after 11am.

"Like you'd ever have a girl in here anyway," shot back Bridget. She had got changed and showered after her trip back and was now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. As always, her jeans were tight-fitting, stretching across her shapely thighs and hips and hugging her delightfully rounded ass like a second skin. The pink t-shirt she wore was stretched tight across her ample chest, her big boobs looking as though they would burst through the thin cotton at any moment.

"I need my privacy," he insisted.

"You were probably jerking off," she murmured scornfully. "But anyway, I need your help."

Paul was surprised by this comment and for the first time noticed she had a slightly pained expression. "What's wrong," he asked her suspiciously. Knowing Bridget it was probably some dirty chore she wanted him to do.

"I've got a pain in my stomach and chest, since I got back from Mexico," she explained. "I think I need to go see a doctor, but I don't think I can drive."

Paul briefly considered refusing, especially after she had been such a bitch right after telling him his father was dead. "Okay fine," he said at last. It could be something serious and despite his dislike, he didn't really want her badly hurt or dead. "I'll take you."

Paul drove her down to the local doctor's clinic and waited with her for almost an hour before they were finally admitted into the doctor's office. As Paul followed Bridget down the hallway to the office he admired the roll of her curved hips and way her firm buttocks moved in her tight fitting jeans.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Dr Walker once they were seated. He was an elderly, grey haired man who was rather overweight and had ugly liver-spots on his hands and bald forehead, but on such short notice he was the only doctor available to see Bridget.

"I've just got back from Mexico," Bridget explained, wincing slightly and holding her stomach with one arm. "And in the last couple hours I've developed this sharp pain in my stomach and chest."

"Both?" Dr Walker asked, seeming surprised.

Bridget nodded, "yes, both."

"That's strange," murmured the doctor in reply. He stood up and reached for the stethoscope sitting on the side of his desk. "Any other symptoms?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Bridget replied with a shrug, sitting beside her, Paul couldn't help but notice the way the movement lifted up her heavy tits, jiggling them very slightly under her tight fitting t-shirt.

"No headaches, pains anywhere other than your torso?" Dr Walker quizzed her as he moved around the desk.

"No, just my stomach and chest, is it serious doctor?"

"I'm not sure yet," admitted the doctor, he moved over to stand right in front of where Bridget sat. "I just need to have a listen to your stomach, can you lift up your shirt please."

Bridget glanced briefly over at where Paul was sitting beside her, hesitating a moment. She then nodded and pulled up the bottom of her shirt, exposing her flat, nicely tanned stomach.

Paul bit his lower lip and stared at the sudden, exposed skin of his father's gorgeous girlfriends flat belly. She had pulled her t-shirt up to her chest and the bottom of her white and pink patterned bra was visible, her large breasts swelling out in the skimpy satin material.

Even the doctor seemed affected by the display of skin, his hand shaking slightly as he pressed the cold stethoscope against Bridget's stomach and listened intently. He frowned as he listened in a few places.

"Seems normal," he said at last, taking off the stethoscope and placing it back on his desk. "I can't hear anything unusual. The pain is there right now is it?"

"Yes, it's been there the whole time," Bridget confirmed as she pulled her top back down.

"I'm going to need to do a breast exam now," said Dr Walker. "Can you please take off your t-shirt and bra."

Paul's eyes went wide in eager anticipation of finally getting a look at those world-class tits he'd been ogling since he first met her.

Bridget however had other ideas. "Is that necessary doctor?"

"Yes, I need to eliminate a few possibilities in my diagnosis."

"Okay then," Bridget agreed. "Paul, wait out in the waiting room please."

Paul's heart immediately sank, "But..."

"Out!" Bridget snapped. There was no way that creepy young geek was going to she her topless that was for sure.

"Fine," Paul replied glumly, unable to come up with a good excuse to stick around for the titty show. He got up and headed outside to wait for her to finish up, Bridget's boobs banished back to his imagination only.

As soon as the door closed Bridget pulled off her t-shirt and then unclipped her bra, unveiling her magnificent tits. They were huge, two giant mounds of flesh, firm and perfectly rounded, topped by smallish, dark nipples. The doctor almost gasped aloud at the wonderful sight of Bridget's tits, doing his best to maintain his professional composure.

Despite their immense size they had almost no sag, remaining high on chest and proudly out-thrust. The cool air seemed to have an effect on her nipples as they jutted out hard from atop her luscious mammeries.

Dr Lane pulled his chair around in front of Bridget and sat down, preparing for his examination. He paused for a split section, eagerly eyeing up her fantastic knockers, and then reached out, slapping both his hands onto her firm, round boobs.

His hands were a little damp and clammy, and Bridget gave a slight gasp as the doctor gave her big tits and initial test squeeze, sampling their size and firmness. He moved his hands all around the expanse of her vast tits. They were much bigger than his hands so it took a bit to feel them all over. He licked his lips as he gave Bridget's tits another squeeze, her hard nipples tickling his palms.

Dr Lane lifted both her tits up, jiggling them both in his palms as if comparing their weights. He then moved both hands over to her right breast, her tits so big that it was definitely a job for two hands.

Bridget gasped again as the doctor gave her right breast a hard squeeze, his fingers sinking deep into the soft, fleshy orb. Dr Lane's mouth was slightly open and his tongue hung out a bit as he explored her wonderful breasts.

He then held her right breast in one hand, his thumb swiping across her nipple as his other hand pressed around the topside of her boob, as if exploring it for lumps or anomalies. His more conventional examination put Bridget at ease a little, prior to that it seemed like the old doctor was more interested in groping her than examining her.

Dr Lane appeared to finish with her right boob. He gave it a pat and moved both hands over to her left breast, cupping the mountainous tit and squeezing it firmly with both hands, his tongue seeming to poke out further as he watched her firm flesh well up between his squeezing fingers.

He then pressed his fingers around over her tit, checking for any lumps as he had with her right tit, before giving it a final pat, signalling he'd finished.

"Did you find anything?" Bridget asked, relieved when he finally released her jugs. She immediately began to put her bra back on.

"No, everything seems quite normal," Dr Lane replied, wiping his chin which was a little damp from his tongue.

"So what's wrong with me?" asked Bridget in concern. She pulled her t-shirt back on.

"I'm not sure," admitted Dr Lane. "You appear to be in perfect health. I'm going to take some blood samples and run some tests. Hopefully we can find out what's causing the pain."

"How long will that take?" asked Bridget in dismay.

"Probably a couple of days, I'll give you a prescription for some pain killers which should tide you over until we know more."

***

Outside in the waiting room, Paul's thoughts were filled with imaginings of what Bridget's tits would look like naked, or what it would be like to see that old doctor pawing and groping her.

He was snapped out of it by Bridget's return. "Let's go," she said promptly. "We need to go to the drug store and then the antiques store."

"The antiques store?" Paul asked in surprise as he rushed to catch up with her as they left the doctors surgery.

"I want to head to that old Mexican antique store on 43rd Street. I've got this little idol I picked up while we were away that I want to get valued."

"Great, so now we're running all your errands," muttered Paul under his breath as they got back into the car.

"What was that?" snapped Bridget, she winced in pain and clutched her arm across her chest, leaning forward in her chair.

"Nothing," murmured Paul, even though she was a bitch he still felt a little sorry for her. It was clear that she was in real agony.

They ran past the drug store to pick up Bridget's pain killers, then headed over to the antiques store that she had wanted to visit. Paul had asked Bridget where she'd got the idol from, but she'd refused to answer, telling him it was none of his business in her usual aloof manner.

Inside the antique store they were met by an old Mexican woman. To Paul she looked like the oldest woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She was completely covered in wrinkles so deep that it looked like her face was about to crack apart and clearly had trouble moving her ancient body around the store. She had thin, wispy white hair and wore musty old clothes and a red scarf over her head.

"Can I help you?" the old woman croaked as Bridget and Paul approached the counter.

The store was filled with old, dusty furniture and a mix of American Indian and genuine old Aztec relics, as well as a bunch of cheap knock-off Aztec and Mayan statues and medallions that probably went down well with tourists.

Bridget pulled a small turquoise idol out of her purse and placed it on the counter. It was about eight inches tall and intricately carved with a woman's visage. The body of the small turquoise lady was decorated with red shell fragments and from the casual glimpse Paul was able to give it, it looked as though it depicted a naked woman, with disproportionately large breasts.

The old crone's eyes went wide at the sight of the idol and she put her hand to her mouth in surprise. "Where did you get this?" she hissed urgently.

Bridget was a little taken aback by the woman's reaction. "In Mexico," she replied uncertainly. "Is it valuable or something?"

"It is the ancient idol of Xochiquetzal!" the woman told them, as though the name was supposed to mean something.

"So?" Bridget said with a shrug, wondering if the old lady was a crack-pot.

"Xochiquetzal is goddess of female sexuality, prostitutes, and pleasure. The idol has been lost, hidden for centuries, where did you get it?"

"Just some cave," replied Bridget nonchalantly. "It's rare then is it?" she turned the idol over in her hands, looking at it more intently that before.

"It is cursed!" hissed the old woman, looking at the idol in disgust and fear.

Bridget scoffed doubtfully at this, "Yeah right. You just want to cheat me, don't you old woman?"

The ancient Mexican woman stared intently into Bridget's eyes. "You can feel it already, can't you?"

Bridget frowned, "what are you talking about?" She glanced towards Paul, snatching up the idol from the counter, "maybe coming here was a mistake."

Bridget turned as if to leave, but the old woman spoke again. "You can feel the curse can't you? You can feel the pain?"

Bridget hesitated, thinking of her sudden ailment since her return from Mexico. Could it really be related to the idol? How had the old woman known? She turned back and put the idol back on the counter.

"The pain is only the beginning," warned the antique dealer.

"It's caused by the idol?" asked Bridget dubiously, not sure whether to believe her or not. "The curse?"

"The pain will increase every hour and the curse will ultimately kill you," the old woman said dramatically. Paul could still not tell if she was for real or just tried to cheat Bridget out of some money and get a cheap price for the idol.

"I should get rid of the idol," said Bridget. "You will take it?"

"No!" snapped the old woman immediately. "I do not want the curse. Getting rid of the idol will not help you anyway."

"What?" Bridget's voice tremored slightly, a little fear showing through. "So I'm doomed?"

The old woman hesitated, thoughtfully considering the idol.

"Should I return the idol?" Bridget asked. "I mean take it back to the cave."

"It will not help you," the woman replied immediately and Bridget's face paled. "But there may be a solution, a cure for the curse."

"What?" Bridget said at once, her voice begging. "What do I have to do?"

"I will need to look into it," said the woman. "To study the ancient writings. It will take time. Tomorrow I will have an answer for you."

"Tomorrow?" asked Bridget in dismay. "But the pain, it's getting worse, I can feel it." She seemed to be caught up in what the old crone was telling her.

"How long have you had the idol?" the Mexican asked her.

"Two days," replied Bridget fearfully.

"Yes," the old woman nodded. "You may not live through the night."

"So what can I do?" asked Bridget.

"There may be a way to slow down the curse, to keep it at bay until I can find an answer for you."

"What? Anything!" begged Bridget.

The old woman paused a moment, glancing briefly at Paul and then back to Bridget and the idol. "You must consume manseed. Every two hours. It will keep the curse at bay, keep the pain away and let you live through the night."

"Manseed? You mean semen?" Bridget was very confused now.

"Yes. The goddess of sex requires an offering. You must drink the seed every two hours if you want to fight the curse," confirmed the woman.

Bridget grimaced, "That's gross. Where am I going to get cum every two hours?"

"Your boyfriend perhaps," said the woman, glancing over at Paul. He gasped in surprise at the connotation. "You must drink the manseed every two hours. It must be fresh and taken directly, not touching any cup or vessel."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Bridget almost shrieked in horror.

"Every two hours," repeated the woman. "Return to me tomorrow and I will hopefully have good news for you."

Bridget nodded numbly and walked out of the store in shock, Paul trailing along behind her.

"Do you think she was for real?" asked Paul as they got back into the car. He wasn't sure what to make of the crazy old woman and her stories about curses.

Bridget was very pale and did not answer him. She still clutched the idol of Xochiquetzal in her hand, her knuckles white as she clung on for dear life.

They drove back in silence, both rather shocked and uncomfortable. As soon as they were home Bridget immediately took a double dose of the pain killers she had been prescribed by Dr Lane and then headed for her bedroom. Paul shrugged helplessly, and decided to go play some X-Box in the lounge to take his mind off things. It had been quite a day.

***

Bridget rolled over on her bed, clutching her stomach in agony. It had been twenty minutes since she had taken the drugs and they didn't seem to be helping. In fact the pain felt even worse now. Was that ancient old woman right, was she really cursed? Bridget groaned again and looked over at where the small idol sat on her dresser.

Drink semen every two hours? Gross! Bridget wasn't sure she could stomach the humiliation, and with Josh gone where was she couldn't to find a source for all that semen? Certainly not his brat of a son Paul, that was for sure! The little prick would enjoy that way too much for her liking.

Bridget took another couple of painkillers and tried to get some sleep.

***

"Ahh!" moaned Bridget, sitting up in bed. The pain was not going away. Dr Lane's drugs should have kicked in by now.

"Maybe it is for real," Bridget said aloud, looking over at the cursed idol again. Was she really under some old Aztec's goddess's curse? Was this a bad dream, a nightmare?

She reached into the drawer of her bedside cabinet and pulled out a small address book. Time to call, Darren, her old boyfriend. Desperate times called for desperate measures.